There's No Medicine That Can Fix That Mind
by Vita Fidens
Summary: Sequel to: "But Your Kiss Won't Leave Me Be." In the weeks preceding the arrival of a new champion, Dean Ambrose and Wade Barrett have startling revelations about Molly Parker. When one of them goes too far, they're all set on a path that could lead to destruction. Rated M: Language, sex
1. Chapter 1

Ambrose's usual whore was a tough blonde who understood his…proclivities. But tonight, after three long, sleepless nights, he required a different kind of release.

He placed a proper kiss on her outstretched hand – it wouldn't do to offend her – before moving on towards a girl he'd been watching for the last week or so. She was tall and willowy, with long brown hair and blue eyes.

She was impossible to distinguish from Molly, at least from the back. And that was the only angle he cared about this evening.

He could see the fear in her face as he approached her, and it made him smile. His reputation preceded him. The amount of money he flashed in front of her eyes quickly made her ignore her instincts, and he was very shortly being led up to her room.

She attempted to shove him down on the bed and straddle him, but he quickly moved away. Standing and pulling her to her feet, he turned her away from him and pressed against her back. He closed his eyes and forced himself to be gentle, in spite of the sudden urge to speed up.

Pulling her hair away from the nape of her neck, he dotted soft kisses along her skin while his hands lightly cupped her breasts.

"Mmm," the girl moaned, wriggling her hips against him.

His lip curled up in disgust. "Just…let me take the lead," he said, still trying to be kind.

"Of course, baby," she replied, attempting to insert a note of seduction into her voice. "We'll do whatever you want."

"Don't talk," he murmured, pushing her head to the side to allow him better access to her neck.

He closed his eyes again and attempted to play out his fantasy. It worked for a short while, and he began to slowly undress the woman in front of him.

That's when things went all wrong.

She moved too much, she moaned too loudly, her hips moved in ways that were completely unbelievable – and not in a good way.

He tried. He truly did.

"Please," he said, panting, "just lie still."

"You want me to act like I don't know a thing?" She'd asked, indignant as she craned her neck back to look at him. "You want me to act like some clueless virgin?"

"Yes," he replied desperately.

She laughed. "You _do _know you're in a whorehouse."

He pulled away from her, agitated. This quickly turned into a cold anger. "I know precisely where I am," he replied calmly. "Do _you_ remember with whom you are speaking?"

He saw her eyes flash with fear once more, and after a tense moment she nodded.

"Good. Then I don't expect any further trouble from you. Just lie there," he snapped.

She finally did what she was told, but the moment – which he'd truly only had the most tenuous of holds on – slipped away.

He had a mediocre orgasm, finishing as quickly as he could and throwing the promised amount of money at the girl.

It was no use, he realized as he dressed.

There was simply no acceptable substitute for what he needed.

"Fucking hell, Molly," he muttered angrily. "Fucking _hell_."


	2. Chapter 2

Wade Barrett watched with some amusement as a red-faced Sheamus put on a burst of speed to beat Drew in a foot race, glancing at Molly to see if she'd noticed.

She hadn't.

He tried to keep from laughing – it wasn't very kind or decent of him, but he found the devolvement of his thirty-year-old mate into a teenage boy highly entertaining.

Molly jaunted up the stairs with her basket full of clean clothes, and Wade couldn't resist.

He nodded towards Sheamus. "He fancies you, you do realize?"

She turned to follow his gaze, and Sheamus immediately had cause to look elsewhere. "Who?" She asked, bewildered. "Drew?"

Wade laughed. "Good guess, but try the one who turns the same shade as the hair on top of his head whenever you glance in his direction."

Molly started to blush herself. "I don't notice that sort of thing," she replied flippantly, waving her hand dismissively.

"He's a good man."

"He is," she agreed, although she sounded very unenthusiastic.

"You could have a nice life with him," he pushed gently.

"Trying to marry me off already?" She teased.

He managed to grin. "And lose my one chance to have clean clothes and home-cooked meals every night? Absolutely not."

She rolled her eyes at him, although he could see a smile budding on her lips. "I see. So you were merely making me aware of the situation so I could let him down easily."

"I'm making you aware of the situation because I'm a tender-hearted fool who likes to interfere, and I'd be remiss to not put in a good word for a good friend."

She smiled. "Truly, you are too kind Mr. Barrett."

"To my detriment," he agreed dryly. He paused. "Are you ready for tonight?" He asked a bit more seriously. It was the first night he was allowing one of Ambrose's no-rules fights. He'd warned her that the injuries might be a bit more severe than usual.

She nodded, although the smile dropped off of her face. "I think so. I've been studying up on a few things in case the doc has his hands full with more pressing matters." Her smile returned weakly. "I guess it'll be a trial by fire."

He reached out and gently touched her arm before he even realized it. "You'll be fine," he said soothingly.

"I appreciate the vote of confidence."

He nodded. "You have my full confidence. Always." He didn't realize how somber those words were until they left his mouth, but he realized that he stood by them.

"Thank you," she replied, a small smile curling the corners of her lips. "It means a lot to me."

"Molly," a voice broke in. Wade groaned internally and turned his head to see his murderous bride standing in the doorway leading into the house. "I believe you have better things to do than stand here and chit-chat with my husband?"

The girl looked abashed, and he felt a profound annoyance bubble up in his chest as Molly stammered out an apology and quickly made her way in the house.

His wife stared at him with a mixture of smugness and anger before flouncing into the house after her.


	3. Chapter 3

Molly thought that she might be ready for the carnage coming her way that evening.

She realized somewhere between providing a metal pan for Mr. Ambrose to spit several teeth into and holding Mr. O'Shaughnessy upright while Doctor Callahan stitched a wide gash on his chin shut that she hadn't been quite as well-prepared as she would have liked.

Still, she tried to keep her stomach in check and detach herself from the situation. She managed well enough through the most urgent portions of their care.

Mr. O'Shaughnessy's blue eyes flickered over to her, and he smiled. "Perfect thing to see right when I wake up," he said before passing out again. It took the assistance of Mr. McIntyre and Mr. Barrett to bring him over to the cot in the corner, his feet dragging on the floor lifelessly.

Mr. Barrett turned and she could see how pale he was. His jaw was set hard in his face, and that was troubling.

"You nearly killed him," he growled at Mr. Ambrose.

"I told you," Mr. Ambrose replied patiently, spitting another mouthful of blood, "no rules." He nodded towards the Irishman. "He gave me a hell of a fight, if it's any sort of consolation. Any consolation in addition to the piles of money you can cry yourself to sleep in tonight, that is."

The fire in Mr. Barrett's eyes blazed brighter, and then extinguished suddenly. "You were right about that," he admitted, his fists relaxing from their clenched state. "But I'll have to consider if it's truly worthwhile."

Ambrose grinned smugly. "They've had a taste of it. People will be wanting more now. And if you can't supply them, they'll find someone else who will. Just consider that."

Barrett's fists clenched tightly again, but he nodded curtly and left the room. Mr. McIntyre, who had only been in a run-of-the-mill bareknuckle fight this evening and was not at all the worse for wear, followed suit.

Mr. Ambrose turned towards her, and a small smile lit his face. She could see the gaping holes in his mouth where his teeth had been, the remaining ones outlined starkly in bright red blood. She would dream of that bloody grin for a long time after this night.

"Molly," he said, and chills shot down her spine. It was the first time he'd addressed her directly in about a week. "Be a love and bring me a towel."

She nodded and went to retrieve one while the doctor looked him over. As she went to hand it to him, she saw that his knuckles were so bruised and bloody that gripping it would be an issue. Resigning herself to the project, she began to very gently clean the blood off of his face.

His blue eyes followed her intently, but he said nothing.

The doctor, muttering to himself, left the room just as Molly was finishing. With a strength and swiftness that surprised her, Ambrose managed to grip her wrist and pulled her down to him.

"Thanks darlin'," he said, pressing his lips against hers tightly. She gagged as the salty, coppery taste of his blood filled her mouth.

When she finally managed to wrench away from him, she was repulsed to see an amused smile push its way onto his lips.

She felt the wetness surrounding her mouth and realized that she had his blood smeared across her face. Her nose wrinkled in disgust, and she attempted to keep herself from vomiting while he stared at her with that insufferable arrogant smile.

Her hand reached out before she gave it any conscious thought and slapped him across the mouth.

They were frozen for a moment, and Molly was horrified by what she'd just done. He turned his face back towards her, and she thought that she would suffer greatly for that action.

Instead, Mr. Ambrose laughed. It wasn't a laugh of pure amusement; there was a distinctly sinister quality to it – and a slight incredulity.

Terrified, Molly backed out of the room. Doctor Callahan could handle Mr. Ambrose's injuries without her. She bolted for her room and latched the door behind her, shoving a chair beneath the handle for good measure.

Once she was safe, she couldn't stop shaking.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean reflected on the evening that had passed with a quiet kind of serenity.

As quiet as it could be with a doctor attempting to reinsert teeth into your gums, that was.

Still, he was pleased. He was the victor of the night, and had a handsome sum in his back pocket to prove it. He felt alive for the first time in a very long time, and he could feel that he was no longer mentally on-edge. He'd even been able to steal a kiss from little Miss Molly, and that made it a fine night indeed.

He glanced back towards the giant Irishman slumbering in the too-small cot. He'd given him a hell of a fight, a damn good effort. But Ambrose had prevailed in the end. He always did.

He felt his fists clench shut just a little bit. All that bumbling idiot's actions around Molly had annoyed him immensely this past week. It had been a relief to hear that he was going to be allowed to beat the tar out of him and get paid for it.

Still, the man didn't get the hint he'd so kindly bludgeoned over his head. He'd heard him speaking to her during his brief period of wakefulness.

Not for the first time, he wondered if Molly wasn't coming to him because she was going to that oaf. He quickly dismissed the idea. He had made himself abundantly clear, and there was no way that any woman in her right mind would choose that lummox over him.

Right?

He mentally sighed, wincing a bit as Doctor Callahan jabbed his incisor back into its bloody socket.

There was no way for him to truly know what Molly was doing when he was elsewhere, and that thought was maddening. Now that his week had gotten better, he was able to admit his failure in this endeavor to bring her to him. He had laid his trap, and she wasn't springing it.

It was obviously time for a new approach, but what approach that would be had him absolutely puzzled.

To add a bit of desperation to the situation, he was still unable to sleep. He hoped that might change tonight, but he was practically dead on his feet from the previous endless nights. Not even whores had helped, which was unusual.

He could feel one of the small sane parts of his mind realizing that his curiosity of her had flamed into an obsession. Unable to sleep, unable to eat, unable to go about the necessities of daily living – he thought only of her.

That did add a new dimension to this problem. He found himself wondering if one roll between her sheets would satisfy him after all.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and felt the substantial bulge of bills press into his back.

The idea was sudden, swift, and absolutely perfect.

Barely able to contain himself, he leapt from the chair the moment Doctor Callahan had finished patching him up and raced out of the room, not stopping until he arrived at the door of Wade Barrett's study.


	5. Chapter 5

"You want to know _what_?" Barrett asked, obviously not hearing him correctly.

"I want to know how much debt Tom Parker is still in to you," Ambrose explained patiently, although he was quite obviously in an excited state.

"Why?" He asked, his eyes narrowing.

Ambrose grinned. "I want to pay off his debt. Molly will come work for me in return."

Wade felt his stomach start roiling. "No," he replied immediately.

The other man raised an eyebrow. "You suddenly don't need the money?" He asked, his voice dropping into dangerous territory.

"That's not the case," Wade admitted. "But I won't send her off to be…mistreated…by you."

"I won't mistreat her," Ambrose scoffed.

"Regardless, the only way she'll leave this house and my employment is willingly. I'm not going to sell her off. She has a stable home here for the first time in her life."

Ambrose clenched his jaw and immediately regretted the action, feeling his repaired teeth wobble slightly. "So here she'll remain until she dies," he said flatly.

Wade nodded, hands laced across his chest. "Or until she marries." The expression on Ambrose's face at those words shot a bolt of fear through him. "Marries an acceptable partner of her choosing, of course," he added quickly.

"Acceptable partner?" Ambrose asked, studying his hands. Wade thought it might be to keep him from coming for his throat, and he was very glad for that.

"Steady man with a stable job and home," he elaborated. "Someone who will give her a good life."

"In other words, not me," Ambrose replied morosely, looking up to meet his eyes finally. Barrett noticed, for the first time, how worn he looked.

"Not you at the moment," Wade replied before his brain caught up. "You live in a boarding house with no savings to speak of. You drink. You carouse. I can't send her to live that way."

Ambrose considered his words with great care. "You are far too noble," he sneered. "Turning down money that could solve many problems for you for the care of one girl." He looked at him curiously. "It does make one_ wonder_."

Wade glowered angrily, and yet weighed his next words carefully. "I have other money coming in now, thanks to _your_ brilliant venture. Had you approached me a week ago, why, my answer very well may have been different." He enjoyed the heat and regret that flew into Ambrose's eyes. "Now, however, I can choose to be…noble." He smiled at him and attempted to keep any malice out of it, a rather difficult task.

He watched with some amusement as Ambrose's lips curled and his head and shoulders twitched angrily for a few moments.

"What's all this talk about Molly anyway?" He asked once the other man had calmed. "You've never before indicated a burning desire to settle down."

Ambrose shrugged. "I'm getting older. It's expensive to pay a whore to take care of you in your golden years. Molly does well for you here, and I thought I wouldn't have to waste time courting her if I could just pay off her father's debt. But that won't be the case." He sighed. "I suppose I'll need to look elsewhere, then."

Barrett nodded thoughtfully, a painful ache in his chest that he hadn't been fully aware of loosening. "There will be no shortage of willing women. Good, willing women." 'Who aren't Molly,' he added mentally.

"I suppose you're right. Although those women will require work."

Wade smiled wryly. "All women require work, Mr. Ambrose. That's the unfortunate truth."


	6. Chapter 6

Ambrose turned over Barrett's words in his head. The unfortunate truth. He snorted. "The real unfortunate truth," he muttered, "is that you're too stupid to give me what I want before I take it from you."

He carefully turned the doorknob and lightly leaned against the door. It moved a few inches before stopping abruptly.

His mood took a quick turn for the worse. He was being denied at every turn, it seemed.

Molly clenched her knees to her chest, sitting bolt upright on her bed in the darkened room. She'd been unable to sleep, alert and listening to every creak the house made. She'd been sure she was imagining the sound of her door moving a few moments ago, but when the sound returned and a small sliver of light spilled in she knew that wasn't the case.

He was coming for her.

Her fear consumed her and she was entirely unable to move, watching as the chair rocked back and forth as he attempted to open the door with increasing violence.

"Molly?" Mr. Barrett's voice called from the other side of the door. "Are you all right in there?"

The relief that flooded through her was immense, and after gaining her bearings she stood and approached the door.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Just give me one moment."

He stopped fighting with the door and she quickly moved the chair aside. The second it was free, he pushed his way into the room with a concerned expression on his face.

"What happened?"

She shook her head, and he surprised her by stepping towards her and taking her chin in his hand, bringing her face up to his. "What happened?" He repeated slowly.

She could feel her lips quivering, but she attempted to steel herself. "Nothing," she lied.

"Did he hurt you?" Mr. Barrett's voice grew hard, and the anger in his eyes surprised and terrified her.

"Who?" She asked dumbly.

He regarded her sharply for a moment before, apparently satisfied with her ignorance, he loosened his grip on her. "Sit down," he said, nodding towards the bed. "We have something to discuss."

Fear blooming in her chest once more, she primly sat on the bed and watched him with wide eyes.

Suddenly, he seemed unsure.

"Mr. Ambrose approached me this evening," he finally said slowly. "He wanted to buy your father's debt from me. You would then be under his employ in return."

Her mouth fell open, and all of the air immediately left the room.

"I said no," he assured her quickly. "He then…he wanted to know about…" he paused and sighed heavily, sinking onto the bed beside her after a moment. Her heart picked up, and she wondered what could possibly be worse than Mr. Ambrose wanting her in his home.

"He wanted to know about marrying you," Mr. Barrett finally said, glancing at her to gauge her reaction. She attempted to keep her face still, although her heart was beating so hard that she was sure he could hear it.

"What did you say?" She finally asked.

"I said no."

All of the tension left her body in one instant. "Thank you," she murmured.

He smiled weakly. "I can hold him off for some time, but eventually he'll come to you."

She nodded, feeling sick. "That he will," she agreed.

"The choice will, of course, be yours…but I would advise against it."

"What choice will be mine?" She asked, confused.

"Whether you want to marry him or not," he replied, an attempt at an understanding smile on his face.

"No," she answered immediately, horrified. "No, certainly not."

For just one moment, his lips spread more widely into a natural smile of relief. He immediately pulled his face back into a neutral position.

"I'm glad to hear it," he admitted, lightly patting her knee. His hand lingered for a moment, his thumb lightly tracing over the line of her leg.

She glanced over at him, and he met her eyes. He knew that he should remove his hand, but his brain was having a difficult time communicating that notion into actual movement. She didn't pull away, and he reached up to brush her hair back over her shoulder.

He wanted to run his fingers over her neck; he wanted to feel the way her heart beat beneath his fingertips.

It was then that he moved away, pulling his hand back as if her flesh burned his. In a way, it did.

"I'll leave you to get some rest," he said, placing his hands in his lap. "I just thought you should be aware what's coming for you."

She nodded. "Thank you. I'll…think of something."

"If he gives you any trouble, tell me."

"I will," she lied.

He smiled and nodded, although it was easy to see something was troubling him. He stood abruptly and left quickly, not stopping until he was back in his own room.

"Fucking hell, Molly," he muttered, not knowing that his own sentiments had been uttered by another man a mere day before. "Fucking _hell_."


	7. Chapter 7

An eerie calm descended over the house after that night.

Mr. O'Shaughnessy recovered and sheepishly asked if he'd said anything foolish. Molly assured him that he hadn't.

Mr. Ambrose maintained a respectable distance, although she often caught him looking at her with frank curiosity – and sometimes unfathomable anger – on his face.

Most troubling of all, Mr. Barrett became unsociable towards her. She only had a few hours to worry over this development before Mrs. Barrett remembered they were expecting to receive a guest – the name escaped her – by week's end and put her to work.

After three days of heavy cleaning, the house had never looked better. And all of Molly's concerns about Mr. Barrett, Mr. Ambrose, and, to a lesser extent, Mr. O'Shaughnessy seemed to fly away. She had no stored energy to worry about anything, save where the screeching Mrs. Barrett would send her next.

Exhausted beyond comprehension, she collapsed into bed that third evening and slept immediately.

While the rest of the house slept, Dean Ambrose crept back to Molly's room. The door had been locked these past few nights, and he had no reason to believe tonight would be different.

He had tried to create a course of action, but his mind was simply too muddled by potent desire.

He couldn't stay away from her. He knew that much for certain.

With little hope, he tried the door – and was astounded when the knob turned in his hand.

He froze for a moment, his heart racing, before pushing forward with great care.

She was asleep, her body curled tightly and her hair spread across her pillow in soft waves. He merely watched her for a few moments, watching the soft rise and fall of her chest while she dreamed.

He felt a familiar tugging in his stomach and groin; the ache of wanting being visited upon him once again.

There would be no way to stop this.

Gently, oh-so-gently, he made his way to the bed and slid in beside her, pressing his chest against her back. She barely stirred.

For a few moments, he contented himself with the feel of her warm body against his. He inhaled the clean scent of her hair, nuzzled his face into her neck, lightly touched her soft breasts. He could pretend, if only for a moment, that she was willingly allowing him to do these things. That she wanted him in the same way he wanted her.

"Oh darling," he murmured quietly into her neck, his hand sliding down to her thighs. "Why do you torture me so?"

He slipped his fingers into her panties and began touching her, his flesh quickly becoming reacquainted with hers.

She sighed in her sleep and pushed her hips towards him. After several minutes of light stroking, he carefully pushed her onto her back and made his way between her thighs.

And there he was several moments later, when Molly awoke gasping and panting. "What-?" She asked, trying to wrench away from him.

Ambrose, knowing that this might happen, had wrapped his arms tightly around her hips to keep her pinned to him. "Shh," he said, drunk on the taste of her. "You'll wake everyone up."

He started mimicking the previous actions of his fingers with his tongue, and any protests Molly might have had were gone. Her heart was racing in her chest, her body tensing while she throbbed in a not-unpleasant way.

"Please," she murmured, although she didn't know if she was pleading with him to stop or continue. The way her hips began to rock against his face, she gathered that she wanted him to continue on.

Suddenly, he pulled away from her and knelt between her spread thighs. She could see that his face was wet around the mouth – wet from her, she was horrified to realize.

"I'll finish you," he said calmly, "but only if you help me."

"Help you with what?"

He smiled lazily. She wasn't screaming for help. He took that as a good sign.

"I've touched you once, and now I'm kissing you," he reminded her gently, taking her hand and running it down his bare chest. "I should at least get the same in return, don't you think?"

He noticed the fear in her eyes. "It won't hurt you," he promised. "Think of it as…practice…for when you're married."

"Married women do this?" She asked, skeptical.

"The good wives do. You _do_ want to be a good wife someday, don't you?"

"Yes, but not to you," she replied boldly.

He laughed. "So Mr. Barrett had a little chat with you, I take it? Molly," he murmured, bending down to kiss her neck. "I don't want to marry you," he whispered in her ear. "I just want to fuck you."

"Get out," she replied immediately, putting her hands on his shoulders and attempting to shove him away.

"Shut up," he answered evenly.

He felt more than saw her attempt at a scream, and slapped her hard across the face to stifle it.

"Do you think I'm playing?" He asked calmly. "Do you believe that this is some game you and I are engaged in?" He paused before gripping her chin tightly in his hand and forcing her to look into his eyes. "I don't play games when it doesn't suit me, Molly. Playing games with you stopped suiting me about a week ago. Now I'm just going to take what I want from you."

"Please," she said, shaking her head.

He felt a twinge of sympathy and reached down to stroke her face. "Believe it or not," he said slowly, "it will be better this way. You give me what I need, and I'll leave you alone. You won't have to be worried any longer."

He could see the warring emotions on her face. She was disgusted and angry, but also curious and still clouded by her physical arousal. He thought it might bode well for him.

"No," she said, so quietly at first that he wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly.

When he bent closer to her and opened his mouth to ask what she'd said, her head came up abruptly and smashed into his face.

Immediately, he let go of her hands as his eyes watered and blood began leaking from his nose.

"Oh you bitch," he muttered, reaching for her – but she had wriggled away from him and was out of the bed, heading towards the small writing table. As he stood, she gripped the chair beside her tightly in two hands and brought it up off the ground in front of her.

"Get out," she growled.

He managed to pull his expression of disgust into an unconcerned smile. "Do you really think that's going to stop me?"

He lunged for her, and she brought the chair up further and swung it into his ribs with surprising strength.

The air immediately left his lungs and he fell to the floor.

"Get out," she repeated, kicking him angrily. "And don't you _dare_ come back."

He caught her foot and stared up in her face for a moment before she brought her weight down on his larynx. His breathing, already labored and painful, became nearly impossible.

After several seconds, she let up her weight.

Without any hesitation, he crawled to the door and left immediately, not sparing a glance backward.


	8. Chapter 8

Back in his own dingy room, he studied his reflection in the dirty mirror. Dried blood mottled over his face, and a bruised throat and swollen lip completed the picture.

He inhaled viciously on a cigarette, ignoring the burning that accompanied his every inhalation.

That fucking cunt.

"She thinks this is over," he muttered. "This isn't over."

He briefly wondered where – and how – she had learned how to fight so effectively. He dismissed this thought once he realized that he didn't give a fuck.

The only thing he cared about was that she had hurt him.

And she was going to pay.


	9. Sequel

Hello everyone! Thanks again for reading. The next part is up and is entitled "I'll Gravitate Towards You, I Will Hate You." Fair warning, there is violence and some parts that may be uncomfortable to read. Please proceed with caution, and please enjoy!


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